


Coming Up Short is a Sure Thing

by Daiako (Achrya)



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Yakuza, Branding, Forced Bonding, Forced Orgasm, Forced Pregnancy, Guilt, M/M, Non-Consensual Oral Sex, Rape, Violence, Yandere ignis, nothing good happens here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-09
Updated: 2018-12-09
Packaged: 2019-09-15 04:49:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16926807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Achrya/pseuds/Daiako
Summary: Ignis has done everything for Noctis, so they can be together, but Noctis doesn't appreciate it. Ignis decides to put him in his place once and for all.





	1. I Don't Know How to Give You My Love

**Author's Note:**

> Since Tumblr is losing it's mind, I'm migrating things to AO3. These were some tumblr fills and, if you've somehow missed the warnings, nothing good happens here. It's all bad. ALL BAD.

Ignis leaned back against his desk, hands clasped behind his back, as Gladio dragged his flailing, swearing omega into his office. Noctis was red faced and puffy eyed, a dark bruise forming along his jawline, and so very small in comparison to Gladio but he fought anyway, hissing in the way only a truly pissed off omega could. It was endearing, really, how angry and determined his mate could be when motivated enough. If only Noctis would focus that energy of his on something more worthwhile than trying to escape Ignis.

It didn't have to be like this. If Noctis would just settle for a time, let the bond really take hold, he wouldn't want to fight anymore. It was omega nature to submit to their bonded alpha, a biological imperative as built into them as heats and their lovely scents, and the stronger the alpha the stronger the bond and there were few stronger than Ignis was. And yet Noctis resisted, clamped down tight on the threads that connected them and refused to let Ignis through properly. 

For now. 

Gladio’s face was carefully blank but Ignis could read the tension in the lines of his shoulders. In another world, where Noctis hadn’t been born an omega, he would be the head of this family, the one Gladio answered to, and there was a strong sense of loyalty in that. But Ignis was stronger, had been born a Prime Alpha and that meant that when he’d disposed of Regis, his former mentor, and claimed Noctis as his own in order to take rightful control, there had been little fighting. It was his right as Prime, earned by killing the former Prime, and he’d claimed, mated, and sired a child with their little prince. None would stand against that.  

Their little prince who should have been content to be the new queen, safe, his every whim catered to, with Ignis’ love and devotion (he’d done this not for power but for Noctis. Regis had deemed him unworthy of his son, arranged a marriage with another family, had seen fit to give Noctis away to some other alpha. What had been left for Ignis to do but everything he could to claim what was meant to be his? He had been at Noct’s side most of their lives, would burn the world to ash for him, loved him more than any else could.), but insisted of continued to fight him tooth and nail, putting himself and their child at risk. 

His latest attempt to flee had been vaguely successful, thanks to the help of a friend from school (who Ignis was now going to have to take care of, which was unfortunate. He’d liked the blond well enough and hadn’t wanted to completely isolate Noctis if he could help it.) His omega had managed to get as far as Hammerhead before Gladio had tracked him down and brought him back. And not without a few injuries though, considering that Gladio had scratches on his face and arm, was bruised, and had a split lip Ignis would let that slide this time. 

Noctis was hauled right to the desk and, when Ignis tipped his head, pushed down to bend over it. Not too roughly, Gladio was ever mindful of the barely there swell of his stomach, but with enough force that the omega winced and snarled. Ignis smiled placidly then moved to the fireplace where the tool he’d had made when he realized Noctis was gone, again, was half in the flames. 

“I don’t know why you insist on these games Noct.” He said, reaching for the delicately crafted brass handle, warm through his gloves. “I hunted you down once before and I’ll do it again and again if I must. You’re mine.” 

Noctis bared his teeth, needle sharp and threatening. “Fuck you.” 

Ignis clucked his tongue then held up the branding iron for Noctis to see. It was a simple thing, iron shaped into a stylized _I_ that overlapped an _S_ , surrounded by a circle. It was so hot it was glowing, throwing off heat into the room. Noctis’ eyes widened and, when Gladio yanked down the collar of his t-shirt to better expose his shoulder, he started squirming anew. 

“I wouldn’t do that.” Ignis scolded lightly. “You’ll make it worse than it has to be.” 

Fear scent filled the room. Noctis whipped his head around to stare up at Gladio, pleading with his whole body. “Gladdy, please. You can’t let him. Make him stop, please.” 

Gladio’s nose wrinkled and, for a moment, the blankness in his gaze was pushed back by anger and regret; he stank of guilt. Ignis pushed back with his own presence, put authority and power into it, flashed his teeth as he met the enforcer’s gaze. Gladio blinked then looked away, a subtle incline of his head showing enough of his neck to be respectful. There was an order to things, a natural primal order going back to the birth of humanity. Alphas like Gladio served, protected, sacrificed, stood tall as shields, guards, the most loyal soldiers anyone could ask for, but they didn’t lead. They followed others, kings, pack leaders, chieftains: it was all the same in the end to them.  

Alphas like Ignis lead. 

“What about the…the..” Noctis couldn’t bring himself to say the word, to give reality to his situation. Ignis shrugged, eyes on the smoking metal. 

“You weren’t concerned when you ran and I doubt you are now.” Ignis was a touch concerned but he also knew Noctis was strong. He would endure this and so would their child. 

Gladio looked away when the brand met skin and Noctis howled. The scent of fear gave way to sour bitterness and burnt flesh, a heavy and unpleasant stink. He pressed firmly, watched dispassionately as skin reddened then curled and began to peel. He lifted the brand away, nose wrinkling, to eye the inflamed layers of flesh left behind when the top layer pulled back with the brand. It looked…awful.

Something in Ignis twinged with regret but he pushed it away. This wasn’t his fault. He’d done his best to be nothing but kind and accommodating since their marriage, it was Noctis who had driven him to such terrible lengths. And, he decided as he passed the brand over and dismissed Gladio, there was something bone deep satisfying about seeing his initials in his omega’s flesh. More so even than the mating mark he’d been kind enough to place at Noctis’ inner thigh when asked, hidden from sight. 

A mistake, now rectified. The brand was high on his shoulder, the top encroaching on the base of his neck, and would be visible in all but collared shirts. And Ignis had no intention of allowing that, or much by way of shirts at all for quite some time. Let everyone in the compound see it, let them know that Noctis had been punished and claimed, again. He wanted to leave no doubt as to the situation, to who Noctis belonged to and who the rest owed their loyalty to. 

“Your flesh looks so lovely, marked with my brand. Now you’ll never escape me.” He said, pressing a hand down close to the brand. The heat had seeped into Noctis’ skin, could be felt under his fingertips. It would need to be be tended to soon, but not quite yet.  

Noctis’ eyes were wide, glassy and unfocused. Ignis tugged him off of the desk then eased him down to his knees, one hand fisting in his hair as the other undid the button and fly of his slacks. He was half hard, the knowledge that his mate would forever wear another of his marks more arousing than he’d expected.

Wear his marks, stand at his side, bare his children…

 “Open your mouth.” 

The ‘or else’ hung in the air around them. Noctis’ lashes lowered, wet and clumping with tears, and his lips parted, wet and trembling. Ignis guided his cock between them, sighing as wet heat surrounded him, then began to thrust into his mate’s mouth. Noctis was unresisting, as he tended to be when it came to sex, mouth and throat open and soft, and Ignis used him as roughly as he dared, tugging his hair, forcing him to bob up and down as he fucked his mouth, lingered in his throat until his eyes watered and the tight cavern convulsed around him. 

When he finished it was over his mate’s tear streaked face. 

“Have Gladio take you to your room and call Sania to tend to your shoulder. She’s already here, waiting. And Noctis,” He said, cupping the omega’s chin. “Do not do this again.”  


	2. If I Keep My Eyes Closed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ignis wants Prompto dead. Noctis intercedes. Prompto suffers.

Gladio had grown up alongside Noctis and Ignis, counted them both as his best friends and assumed they’d be together, the three of them, just the same as they always had been. When Ignis’ feelings for Noctis had changed, taken on elements beyond friendship, Gladio’s worldview had changed to encompass Ignis and Noctis together, leading the family as Prime and Queen, and him as their enforcer as his father had been for Regis. He’d watched Noctis warm up to Iggy’s advances, watched the tentative courtship, and when Ignis had gone to Regis to ask to marry Noctis Gladio had assumed the yes was a foregone conclusion.

Ignis was hand selected by Regis, a prime alpha to be trained and groomed by him, and that it was to stand as the head of the family, and marry Noctis one day, just made sense.

When the former Prime had refused Ignis and announced Noctis would be marrying Luna Nox-Fleuret, future prime of their closest allies, he’d been shocked. Confused. He’d seen their imagined future crumbling away for reasons he couldn’t fathom. No one had been able to understand the refusal, not even Noct.

Now, just over a year and much upheaval and death later, Gladio was certain Regis must have seen the dark obsession lurking in Ignis. He loved Noctis, without a doubt, but he loved him so much that he was willing to kill, to hurt, and to cage. He was ready to turn Noctis into an exotic bird, chained to a perch but never to fly free, forever out of reach from others and somehow Regis, who loved his son more than anything else, had known it and tried to protect him. Better to be denied his first love than end up as he was now, bound and stripped of all freedom, violated in ways Gladio wished he could say he knew nothing about. 

Before today Noct had only been allowed to leave the compound to go to class and hang out with Prompto, with an armed escort. After today Gladio doubted he’d be allowed even that, or at least it would be a long time before it happened again. Certainly not until after the birth of their pup. Igni...Ignis was not the man he’d been before Regis’ rejection. He was angrier, full of a cold fury that drove him to do terrible things, had hands stained with blood, and what he loved most under his thumb. There was no kindness left in him, and he wouldn't let this slide. 

If someone had told him a year ago Regis would be dead at Ignis’ hands and that he would be holding down one best friend while the other branded them he would have punched them for even suggesting such a thing. But that was the reality, Ignis was their leader now, the Prime Alpha, and they were all under his sway. He’d sworn his loyalty, submitted to the pack bond, and now could not defy Ignis no matter how he might want to. Saving Noctis was…

All he could do was try to make his life easier. Little things like collecting him from Iggy’s office and cleaning his face and hair before carrying him to his room to be seen by the private physician. Like not wholesale rejecting his quiet, desperate requests.

“You want me to what?” He hissed as he carried the younger omega down the silent covered paths of the compound they lived in. There were guards scattered about, solemn men in suits, armed to the teeth, read to fight and die for their leader and their leader's mate. Especially for Noctis, their prince, who Ignis had used to gain their oaths and force into pack bonds. Noctis who he cruelly used while they watched and seethed, forbidden by the prime alpha from getting involved.

It had all happened so fast. One minute they'd been confused, mourning Regis and trying to find out who to lash out against, the next Ignis had appeared before them all with a shellshocked and bruised Noctis at his side, the bond already in place, demanding they submit to him or leave service to their prince. 

“Claim Prompto.” Noctis said quietly. His head was resting on Gladio’s shoulder, his branded skin covered by a gauze pad, for now, and angled away so it couldn’t be jostled or touched. He was pale, expression wan, dark shadows under his eyes; his arms were wound protectively around his middle. “Ignis is going to kill him.”

Gladio scoffed. Not that Noctis was wrong, Prompto was going to be dead before the sun came up, but that was hardly Gladio's concern. Or Noct's, anymore. “You shouldn’t have gotten him involved. You know how Ignis is.”

Noct’s lashes fluttered, eyes lowering. Regret tainted his scent. “I just…I told him about the…the pregnancy. How Ignis is making me keep…he wanted to help.”

Of course he did. Prompto was a sweet kid, naive and helpful in a way that only the genuinely naive and trustworthy could be. He didn’t see the dirt and blood clinging to all of them, to Noctis even, and thought they were all so 'cool' and 'awesome'. It was sweet how he different he was from them, and it was that sweetness that had gotten him here, who knew how close to execution. The shocked look on his face when Gladio had kicked in the door of their motel room and pistol whipped him when he tried to get between him and Noctis was burned into his mind. Hurt, confusion, disbelief. He hadn’t thought Gladio would hurt him, because they were sort of friends, until it had happened, and he surely hadn't imagined just how fast or hard Ignis would come after Noctis when he realized he was gone. 

And now he was bruised and battered, tied up in an old root cellar with no windows or light, waiting Ignis’ judgement. He probably knew he was going to die, had been pale and oddly silent the whole ride, only spoke once before being taken away to apologize to Noctis for not helping him more.

Stupid selfless moron.

"No." 

"No?!" Noctis' head whipped around, face a mask of exhausted fury. "What do you mean no? I'm your...I'm Ignis' _mate_. I'm the Queen, you can't say no to me." 

Gladio felt a ripple through the pack bond. Once upon a time he'd be connected right to Noctis but now the thin, frayed thread between them ran through Ignis and had been dark for nearly a year. Gladio rolled his eyes to fight off the burning behind them; now suddenly Noctis wanted to be treated like Ignis' mate, to wield that (not inconsiderable) power that gave him? For Prompto? And like this? He was willing to command Gladio, to open up passages that lead to Ignis, that Ignis would be able to travel back along to Noct, for one idiot kid? 

"He's better off dead than force bonded. You know that better than anyone else." He winced and Gladio's heart squeezed in his chest. He shouldn't have said that, it was too fucked up a thing to throw in his face. "Look, Noct, I don-"

“Please?” Noctis gasped the word, one of his hands coming up grasp the front of Gladio’s shirt. The thread between them thrummed with sadness and an emptiness so deep it stole Gladio's breath. “He can’t die because of me, he can't. I can't- don’t let Ignis take Prompto from me too. He’s my only friend.”

The salty tang of tears mixed into Noctis’ scent.

Gladio bit his lip, the full weight of the guilt he tried so hard to keep at bay coming down on him. His only friend, because Gladio wasn’t anymore. A friend wouldn’t allow what he had allowed, wouldn’t drag him back to Ignis and his twisted love, wouldn’t hold him down for a fucking brand. A friend would fight the pack bond more, let it kill him. But not Gladio..He wrapped himself in the excuse that he was all Iris had, that she needed him whole and alive, and put that ahead of friendship.

Bonds were one time, forever, unbreakable. Prompto would be his and there would never be anyone else. There would always be the specter of what Gladio allowed, and how he’d hurt Prompto in the process, hanging over them. It would never be anything but ugly and twisted, like Ignis and Noctis were, until the day they died. It was too much. Noctis was asking for too much and yet-

“Okay.” He said, defeated. “We’ll get you patched up-“

“No time.” Noct shook his head. “Ignis might order someone to do it, or order you to before you can claim him. If he gives a command first…”

If Ignis gave the command first Gladio would kill Prompto. If he claimed Prompto first no command on earth could force him to hurt his mate, and pack law would make Prompto one of them, wipe out all crimes before the claiming, and make him untouchable unless he was being punished. Killed only if he betrayed them.

“Take me to him. I’ll explain.” Noctis said,shifting his weight with a pained groan. “Let me-”

“No, you’re going to Sania. I’ll…make it work.”

—

Prompto screamed when he descended the stairs into the cellar, screamed louder when Nyx let the door shut above them, plunging them into darkness, was sobbing before Gladio got to him. Good night vision was an alpha trait, as stamina was for omegas, and it let him see Prompto fighting against the ropes binding his arms to a support beam high above his head and the fear etched on his face.

He tried to talk him down, to sooth him enough to get him to calm and hear him but nothing worked. He walked and begged to not be hurt. Mentioning Noctis just made him more hysterical (“Is he dead? Did you kill him too? Did Ignis kill him? Why is he doing this?!). Touching him made him flop and kick and keeping him from doing that made him try to bite and spit.

Noctis had found an omega every bit as fierce as he was to make friends with. Lucky him.

“Don’t fucking touch me! You can’t- people will know if you kill me, people will look-" Gladio snorted bitterly and Prompto went still and silent for a moment; they both knew no one would be looking for Prompto. "T-this is wrong! Get your hands off me, fuck you Gladio, I thought you were a good person, I thought- I thought we-!”

Gladio’s phone rang, just as shrill as Prompto’s voice. He stiffened, imagining it was Ignis, ready to issue his command. The compulsion to obey would take hold, drive him to kill, make him fail Noctis like he'd been doing for the past year.

He couldn’t let that happen.

Not again.

He would give Noctis this one thing, even if it destroyed him. Better, maybe, that it did. Prompto didn't need him alive to continue to get the protection their bond would grant him. Gladio could go jump off the nearest bridge right after this, and might if it would make things any better. 

He yanked Prompto closer, wrenched his head back while he shrieked, and bit deep into his neck. The omega screamed like he was being murdered (“Nonono!”) thrashed and kicked all over again, but it didn’t matter. Gladio tasted blood and musk in his tongue, the oily secretion from the scent gland, and smelled Prompto’s scent spiking then mellowing, settling even as he became more distressed. Gladio felt the change, the bond, coming to life like a plug connecting a new wire to the back of his brain, nestled among the threads of pack and family, and reaching for Prompto through the darkness. It resonated at its own frequency and for a moment all his others threads did too, telling all he was connected to of what had happened. Everyone knew now that he had taken a mate, and the way Noctis resonated back with a tired, guilty happiness would tell the rest. 

The phone stopped ringing. Gladio knew it was a temporary reprieve. The bond wasn’t finished, needed the bite, blood, and sex to make it stick. Ignis was waiting to see if he’d go that far. 

He would, for Noctis. 

Prompto was limp when he pulled his teeth free, hanging from the ropes. Striping off his pants was depressingly easy, barely earned him a mewled out “Don’t.”

“I’m sorry.” Gladio said and meant it as he hauled the omega up, commanded him to wrap his legs around his waist. Prompto was wet enough, and relaxed, from the bite. Omega biology was a curse, and here was the proof. 

Gladio had to work to get and stay hard, bury his face in the omega’s neck and breathe him in deep while stroking his cock to have any hope of getting and staying hard. Guilt wasn’t good for a hard on, it turned out, and forcible bonding wasn’t either. He felt sick.

Being inside Prompto helped. His omega keened when he thrust up into him, sobbed brokenly when he began to move, holding him close and fucking his swaying body, and it was awful but he was hot, slick, and tight, cradled his cock so sweetly, and rippled around him every time he slammed in. It was good, Prompto wet and sucking him in, getting wetter as the bond strengthened and wrapped around them, tying them together down to the marrow, but it was so hard to keep his thoughts away from the reality. There was no losing himself, not pretending it was anything but what it was. Prompto moaned, rocked against him, and cried against his shoulder right to the end.

Gladio came, knot locking them together. Prompto didn’t, reduced to open mouth panting and trembling but his cock was only half hard. Gladio had to wrap a hand around him and jerk him off, hard and fast and rough to finish him off. Prompto swore and cursed him weakly the whole time, came over his hand while biting down on his shoulder savagely, then went limp again.

Gladio cradled him close as he untied his hands, ran fingers over where he’d rubbed his skin raw, and eased them down into the floor, Prompto astride his lap. There was no fight left in his new mate, only tears and the reek of betrayal.

“I’m sorry.” He said again, pressing his forehead to Prompto’s. “Noct wanted to protect you from Ignis. I had to.” 'I'm as trapped as you are,' he wanted to say. 'This doesn't make me happy, I'm not like this, I hate this, forgive me, let me make this better, let me fix this-' but it didn't matter. It was done. They were bonded and for all that Gladio's instincts were screaming at him to sooth his new mate he knew there was nothing he could say or do to fix this. 

Prompto’s eyes widened then closed, mouth twisting into a grimace as he leaned back to break what contact he could and turned his face away. 


	3. I'm Too Good At Fucking It Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is randomly in present tense. I'm utterly unmotivated to fix this, lol.

Prompto isn’t sure what the worst part of the aftermath is. That Gladio all but jumps away from him as soon as his knot goes down, that Prompto feels…something when it happens, or that his *mate* all but drops him in an empty room directly after and leaves him there. Alone. 

For the next five days.

His heat comes and it’s the worst he’s had in awhile. It hurts, everywhere, constantly. He sweats through his clothes, soaks the sheets to the point that they stick to him like a second skin, feels lightheaded and exhausted, wrung dry and pulled thin. He’s hard all the time, no matter how much he touches himself or uses his fingers to try to calm the raging inferno burning low in his gut. Nothing works, nothing helps. Time slips away; sometimes he comes to on the floor, in a pile of sheets, other times he’s on the floor of the shower, cool water raining down on him, or naked and crying on the bed. 

He can feel the alpha at the back of his mind, a thin trembling string that tugs and flexes between them, but he doesn’t know what to do with it, how to process what comes over it. Usually it’s just a low thrum of *something*, an itch he can’t scratch, and an echo of more but there’s something there’s also more. A darkness that claws at his brain, picks and picks and picks, and when he dares to focus on it, to let it surge up and become more, it tries to swallow him whole. It settles in his chest and stomach, clouds his mind, leaves him able to do nothing but curl up in the bed and sob. 

It’s something so deep, so twisted and dark, that it overwhelms him, drowns him until he’s no longer sure what he feels is…what he feels at all. It’s the only thing that breaks through the heat haze but it’s worse and so he learns, very quickly, to just ignore the tug of the bond.

A servant comes and goes, a meek beta male who refuses to meet Prompto’s eyes or speak to him beyond a mumbled explanation that Gladio had sent him to tend to his meals and keep the room cleaned. There’s food, 3 meals a day and snacks, and he manages to eat when he’s aware enough to do so, demolishing plate after plate. He watches tv in between waves and even manages to pull himself to the door once only to find an armed man in a dark suit standing outside. 

The man doesn’t tell him he can’t leave but the hard disapproving look he levels on Prompto says everything words don’t. 

He notices, in his more lucid moments, that things from his apartment are starting to fill up the space. His computer desk and setup. His school bag, books, gaming system. Figurines and framed photos he’s taken line shelves that used to hold books. His shampoo and body wash sit on the edge of the tub. The oppressive scent of alpha begins to change, meshing with his own to form something new. He’d being moved in, little by little, to this new life he doesn’t want. 

It’s a long five days. And then, just as suddenly as it came on, his heat breaks. He wakes up not feeling like he’s boiling in his own skin, doesn’t feel like he might be sick if he dares to move, doesn’t want to cry out for his alpha to come and fuck him. 

And he’s not alone. He looks to the side when his best friend (maybe. Are they still friends? Prompto isn’t sure) is sitting in a chair next to the bed. Noct looks up from his comic and their eyes meet; Noct’s usually expressive eyes are unreadable. He’s shirtless, strangely enough; Prompto lets his eyes drop to ugly, raised flesh shaped like an overlapping I and S, and closes his eyes again. 

_Oh._

“You hungry?” The bed shifts and dips under the weight of Noctis crawling up beside him. “We can go to the kitchens. You’re allowed to leave the room now.” 

Allowed to leave. Prompto shudders and when he opens his mouth all that comes out is a strangled sob. His eyes burn and his throat tightens up as his fists clench tight around the sheets. 

“Why?” Why had Noctis done this to him? Asked for someone, Gladio! of all people, to claim him, to trap him like Noctis was trapped? Weren’t they running to free Noctis? 

Noctis shifts next to him and his voice drops, becomes uncertain and faint. “I didn’t want Ignis to kill you. I…this is…Gladio won’t hurt you.” 

Prompto wants to laugh but he can’t. Won’t hurt him? No, he just pistol whipped him, threatened to kill him if Noctis didn’t come along quietly,  hauled them back to Insomnia, and then claimed and raped him in some dingy root cellar. Clearly Gladio (Nice, sweet Gladio who had always smiled when he saw him and laughed at his lame jokes and liked his photos and played Co-op games with him when he came by to hang with Noct, and who Prompto had stupidly thought might...might care, might want-) had no intentions of hurting him, how could he have ever thought different? 

They were tied to each other forever, until death do they part, and Prompto hadn’t even had a say. At least not one that mattered, because begging for Gladio to stop surely hadn’t mattered. 

And Noctis had asked him to do it? Had thrown Prompto head first into what they’d been trying to rescue him from. 

“I’m sorry.” Noctis says, voice shaking. “I…I don’t have anyone else if you die too, Prom, I couldn’t- I can’t-He’s never going to let me go. Never.” 

Prompto presses the heels of his palm to his eyes until he sees colors on the back of his lids. It wasn’t supposed to have gone like this. Everything had been wrong since Noct’s dad died and he’d known it, had seen it all changing and going sour, and he’d wanted to help so badly. He’d wanted to say something when Ignis and Noctis got married, barely two weeks after Regis was in the ground. He’d wanted to act when Noctis had quit his part time job and dropped all his other friends. He’d felt sick when Noctis had admitted, hollow eyes and reeking of fear, that he was pregnant and Ignis was forcing him to keep it. 

And so, finally, he’d done something. Helped Noctis pack up a little at a time, hoard money, found places to stay along the way to a shelter on the other side of the country, found people who would help them becomes new people. In Prompto’s head it had all gone smoothly. He was going to save the day, save Noctis and his pup, happy ending for the people who deserved it.  

But he’d been wrong. Stupid, so stupid. He wasn’t a hero; all he’d done was make things worse. Now they were both trapped. 

Noctis touches his shoulder and Prompto jerks away, turns onto his side and curls in on himself. He can feel Noctis going stiff next to him, hear him inhale sharply and then exhale with a wet hiccup, before slipping off of the bed. 

“I’m sorry.” 

Prompto is sorry too but when he manages to say it it’s to an empty room. 


End file.
